


Foudroyant

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [48]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Johnlock Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Sherlock trying not to be Sherlock, angst with a bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>foudroyant: adjective: foo-droi-uh nt/ (French) foo-drwa-yahn: striking as with lightning; sudden and overwhelming in effect; stunning; dazzling.</p><p>1830-40; from French, from foudroyer to strike with lightning, from Old French foudre lightning, from Latin fulgur</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foudroyant

Sherlock considered himself to be an honest person; in fact, he was known for his brutal observations that would seem to be almost cruel, even if true. However, he found it almost impossible to be truthful about his emotions, that 'fly in the ointment', as he called it. He had spent six months ignoring that moment, yes, that split second- there really wasn't an English word for it - foudroyant - perhaps a bit like being struck by lightning, when his fingers accidentally brushed John's hand as he was given the phone -

Illogical. Disruptive. Nonsensical -

Love.

No. Nope. He didn't feel things -

But then why was his knee trembling as he waited an eternity (in point of fact, two whole minutes) for the imbeciles to let him see John? He looked at his hands again, the same hands that ten minutes ago were trying to - no - deletedeletedelete - but he could never delete anything about John -

"Mr. Holmes? Sir?"

"Hmmmm?"

"He's asking for you, at least if you are the 'tall, lanky arse, probably sitting outside dying for a cigarette' ?"

"Oh. uhm. thank you-"

"It looks worse than it is, head wounds bleed -"

"Quite."

"He'll be fine."

"Of course."

He wanted her to leave so he could get to his feet without an audience. He wasn't sure if his legs would hold him up-

"I can get you some coffee?"

"Black, two sugars. Please?" He even managed what he considered a smile as he forced out that word that rarely left his mouth. She finally left, and shakily, he pushed himself to standing and somehow found himself inside John's room.

"Hey-"

He finally let go of the breath he'd been holding, didn't even know he'd been holding-

"You alright?"

A laugh escaped and he covered his mouth.

"Come 'ere, please? Sherlock? I'm fine. I'll be fine. Yeah?"

Sherlock shook his head as he eased his way down, and leaned against the door. "I'll just sit here a minute."

"Okaaaay-"

"I - uhm - came to the conclusion - in the last few minutes - mmmm - that Iloveyou."

"What?"

"I. love. you. Have since we met. But - I don't do this, don't know how - and you don't - you aren't -"

"Please come here? I can't get up, so you need to get over here so I can kiss you, you idiot-"

"Wha-?"

"Just. come. here."

He painfully pulled himself from the floor and dragged himself to John's bedside.

"Sit."

He sat.

"Scootch closer."

He scootched.

John reached over with his good arm and touched the bruise that was blooming on Sherlock's left cheekbone, then he placed his index finger on the bottom lip that Sherlock was biting. 

"If it helps, I love you too."

"But-"

"The dates?"

A brief nod.

"I never thought someone like you would, could ever want someone like me. And I didn't want to ruin our friendship - flats in London are outrageous, you know -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and cautiously reached for John's hand. No lightning bolt, this time, just warm, strong fingers that threaded through his. Somehow, they fit together.

"I don't know what I would've done if..."

John squinted up at him. 

"...I never got to tell you, and..."

"Breathe, for me?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Look at me. I'm right here. Not quite where I thought we'd be when I got to kiss you for the first time, was thinking at Angelo's or over a corpse or something more romantic, but if I don't kiss you right - "

Sherlock bent down and lightly touched his lips to John's - there it is. That prickly, electrical, zappy - more than that, it was home. 

"Mmmmmm. Sher-"

"I'll be right here when you wake up. I promise."


End file.
